God of Storms

“Brother!”

I didn’t move from the raft I floated on in my pool, feet dangling in the water, my head propped up on the inflatable pillow, eyes closed behind my sunglasses.

“Brother!”

Bare feet stomped along the pool deck and I cracked open an eye as the water turned my raft around so I was facing my sister.

“Call off the storms! This is my day, not yours!”

It was midsummer, the day all the humans partied, collected flowers, and danced for my sister, the goddess of love. Probably not unexpectedly given her title, she was my favorite sibling. But she was still my sibling.

“It’s just a natural storm,” I yawned, tossing a little water over my arms. The early morning sun was only hot if laying directly in it like I was, but the water still felt nice. “Meddling in nature just because you want to have a party is-”

I wasn’t allowed to finish my sentence, my raft suddenly spinning around twice, ending so suddenly I toppled over into the water. I stood up sputtering a little from inhaled water, the water only chest high on me, and scowled up at the little brat.

“I know you play with the storms whenever it is convenient for you!” she said, stomping her foot, not looking overly impressive in bare feet with a long sundress on. “If it rains today, I will donate all your clothes to charity!”

With that she flounced off, clearly expecting the world would resolve itself to her whim. As it usually did.

If anyone had been around to witness, I would have grumbled and made a show of getting back onto my raft, but with no one to see I just climbed back on and relaxed back, closing my eyes.

I felt along the wind currents, working my way backwards to the pressure system that was driving the wind and, several hours away, the rain.

The weather wasn’t something that mindlessly responded to my whim. Clouds didn’t dissipate because I was happy, lightning didn’t strike if I was angry - at least not by accident. The basis of all weather was temperature, something even I struggled to control, and water in the air, something I could not control. But movement of an existing storm was easy enough.

The storm that was brewing was nothing more than a mild summer’s rain right now, maybe working its way up to a thunderstorm based on the pressure systems I had felt while back tracking. If the storm went a few miles north, it would avoid the pressure system that would build it up and instead rain would fall just before noon and be done quickly.

I tugged gently on some wind currents, urging them to push the clouds north, and off they went, avoiding my sister’s part for the day.

As my body floated on the pool raft, my mind drifted along wind currents, across land and ocean, storms forming and dying, hail pelleting buildings in some areas, a gentle rain watering crops in others. Snow, even in the northern hemisphere where my sister prepped for her mid-summer party, was found in some places, usually over mountain ranges. All of it as comfortable to me as one would expect laying on a cloud would be.

“Brother!”

Now I did grumble as I opened my eyes, called back from my storms and wind. “What?” I demanded, not opening my eyes.

“You need to get ready! Get out of the pool!”

I cracked open one eyelid, looking back up at my sister. “This is your day, not mine.”

I didn’t really have “a day” to be fair. Farmers tended to remember me year round, and i had a soft spot for their prayers and offerings, but otherwise humans didn’t worship the weather, not the same way they did love.

“Get up!” she demanded. “If I want you at my party, you will be at my party!”

She flounced off again, still barefoot.

Now actually grumbling, I rolled off the raft, on purpose this time, and climbed out of the pool to dry off.

I followed the small patches of now blooming clover and creeping thyme to the house. While I couldn’t thoughtlessly control the weather, my sister enjoyed walking barefoot because of the flowers that sprung up in her footsteps. She claimed she didn’t control it. Several of us, myself included, didn’t believe her, but it wasn’t worth calling her out on.

She had gotten distracted at the door, cooing over a rosemary plant, so to rile her I asked, “What do you want me to wear? My black suit or my other black suit?”

I realized she was two steps a head of me when she smiled brightly. “I left an outfit on your bed!”

Oh no.

Into the house I went to my bedroom, to stop and glare at the khaki shorts and purple button down.

“Guess who wasn’t invited?” a smug voice asked from my doorway, and I turned to glare.

The goddess of death smirked at me, dyed back hair, white face paint with dark color around her eyes and on her lips, piercings, and all black clothing. Gothic, she told me the style was I think.

“Don’t brag, or Samhain will be be a beautiful, warm day with no clouds.”

She knew I couldn’t control the temperature, but took the hint with a final smirk and left me alone.

I looked back at the clothes. I could tolerate a purple shirt, or khaki shorts. Not both.

After my shower to wash off the chlorine, the shirt was chosen, along with jeans and boots. And then I realized I had no idea where this party was.

Back I went in search of my sister, finding our oldest sibling, the Lord of the Dance, had also been suckered into coming. They at least loved parties and people. I just wanted to go back to my pool.

“Good, you’re both ready!” my sister gave my jeans the evil eye but seemed pacified enough by the shirt to let it go. “Who’s driving?”

Our sibling volunteered for the task. “I can. Where are we going?”

My sister responded, leading the way out of the house and to the cars. I followed behind, just hoping it was a fairground with food trucks where I could get sugar covered fried dough.

The things I did for love.